The New Recruit
by SereneCalamity
Summary: So maybe the thirty-two year old Avenger had a thing for the twenty-two year old newbie. HawkeSilver. OneShot.


_Never will I ever write a story where Clint and Nat not be best friends. Shit, man, Aaron is fucking gorgeous though, and I've been feeling the whole HawkeSilver thing lately. So here's another one! I apologize for any mistakes. Usually I love going with a cocky Pietro, so I tried to get a little of that in here, but I also wanted it to be a little of a hurt/comfort thing going on._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. Or else I would be the middle of a Jeremy and Aaron sandwich._

"What are you on about?" Clint Barton rolled his eyes. "That's completely untrue."

"Would I lie to you?" Natasha Romanov asked with a tilt of her head, and a cheeky smile playing over her lips.

"All day, every day," he shot back at her. "You love screwing with my head." She paused and then shrugged.

"Completely accurate," she agreed before launching herself at him, her legs wrapping around his neck and pulling him to the ground. Clint let out a couple of short breaths as his strong arms circled around her thighs and pulled hard. They had been sparring for almost an hour now, and they were both getting tired, but they were still determined to beat each other.

All part of their best friend charm.

"I'm thinking Thai for dinner?" Natasha asked from where her face was smushed into the blue gym mates.

"I don't know, I kind of think I want Indian," Clint replied, trying to jerk himself straight and disentangle himself from the red heads grip. Natasha smirked, managing to stretch her head forward just enough so that she could stick her finger in her mouth and then shove it into Clint's ear. "You bitch!" He growled and released her, rolling away and trying to wipe away the sensation of wet finger in his ear. Natasha rolled onto her back, laughing as she looked up at him. He narrowed his eyes down at her and she grinned back at him.

"Help me up," she held up her hand and Clint took it, pulling her to her feet. She rolled her shoulders and her neck. Clint reached out his arms, hooking one over the other and letting out moan as his shoulder stretched. "I'm gonna go refill our bottles. You want to cool down with the punching bags after?"

"Sounds good," Clint nodded and tossed his empty water bottle over to her. She snatched it out of the air and picked her own from the ground, jogging over to the water pump in the corner of the room. She pressed down the button and then made a face, signalling it was empty and then pointing to the door. Clint nodded in response as he walked over to the where the punching bags were set up. He rubbed his hands down with chalk and picked up a pair of gloves, turning them over in his hands.

SHIELD had always operated out of a couple of buildings with some pretty damn good equipment. But then a few years ago, Tony Stark had hooked up with them and that was when the base came about; and it was kick ass.

Especially if you were one of the Avengers; Tony, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Natasha, Thor Odinson or himself.

Tony organized it so that they got quite pretty special treatment around the place

The fact they got paid the most didn't hurt either; although that didn't affect Thor.

"Okay, come on, ladies!" Maria Hill was clapping her hands and glaring at the half circle of new recruits that she was training up. He recognized a couple of them; they had actually recently fought along side them. Sam Wilson and Scott Lang. They both had some amazing abilities, but their Director, Nick Fury, was always exactly by the books and made everyone go through the standard three weeks of boot camp. From there, he was a bit more lenient—people who had proved their worth already got more specialized training and were on the fast track to becoming one of the Avengers, while others continued through the standard, gruelling training.

Maria was awesome, and a good friend of Natasha and also Sharon Carter. She was Fury's right hand man, and she could handle this new lot of unruly recruits with her eyes closed.

"You and you!" She pointed at two men. "I want you to spar. Clean shots only, people, I don't want any bitchiness." The two men took up positions on the mat and started sparring. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing, but their reflexes weren't particularly accurate and their movements were just a second too slow. Maria watched them with narrow eyes, snapping out orders, telling them to pick up the pace, until one of them got the other on the ground, with his arms twisted behind him. "Okay, next two, up." She pointed at another two, who moved forward from the crowd.

One of them caught Clint's eye.

Pietro Maximoff.

Him and his sister had been rescued from the depths of a HYRDA bunker, the pair of them looking a complete mess—tattered, bloody and shaking. They had been experimented on for years, both of them now displaying some extraordinary abilities. After a few months of rehab, Fury had clearly decided they were ready to start going through training.

As Pietro stepped onto the mat, Maria stepped forward and said something quietly to him. His handsome features pulled together in a slight frown, but then his lips were pressed together and he nodded before stepping onto the mat. He bent his knees slightly and frowned at the other man, who had a confident smirk on his face. He was clearly popular in the group, they all cheered and grinned as the two men poised to start sparring. One of the technicians came over to Maria and she stepped back to speak with him, their heads bent together as the two men fought.

This blonde kid had no problems with his moves being fast or accurate. He was incredible. But it was damn clear he was holding back. Clint couldn't tell _what_ he was holding back, but the look of concentration on his face as he quickly moved away from the other man made it clear there was _something_.

Pietro was about to win, holding the other man down on the mats, when the other man suddenly whispered something, and Pietro's eyes widened.

And then the kid was a blue blur.

Clint blinked and threw the punching gloves to the side, folding his arms over his chest as he watched intently. He couldn't even properly see the kid, who was kicking and punching the man on the mat before the awed noises from the the crowd got Maria's attention. She didn't look surprised by what was happening, but she look annoyed, and she shouted out to them to stop, stalking toward the pair. Clint watched in interest as Pietro suddenly stopped, taking a good few steps back from the man who was now crumbled on the ground, the kid's face now deathly white. Maria glared at the pair of them.

"Cool off," she snarled at them. "And I want to see you both back in my office when the day is over." Clint felt sorry for the two—but mainly just the good looking one. Clearly whatever the man on the floor had said had been intentionally to rile Pietro up, obviously because he was loosing the fight. But as he got to his feet, it was clear that the rest of the people in the training group were on the assholes side, because they were all sending glares in Pietro's direction.

Pietro walked off the other side of the mat, his movements jerky and awkward, nothing like the elegance with what he was fighting before. Clint swallowed as he saw the second man walk off in the other direction, wiping a hand over his bloody mouth. The platinum blonde kid was only a few steps away, and Clint looked over to the door to check if Nat was coming back, but the doorway was still empty. He looked back to the boy, pursing his lips before straightened out his shoulders and walking over to where Pietro was standing with his back to the training group, facing the wall with a furious expression on his face. He looked down, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders, muttering under his breath in a foreign language.

"Uh, hey," Clint piped up, clearly his throat as he stood behind Pietro, feeling a little awkward.

He didn't really _do_ sociable.

The social circle he was most comfortable in was literally him and Natasha.

Sure, he had widened out when he stopped being a soldier and became part of a team. He liked Steve, him and all his righteous bravado, and when Stark wasn't mouthing off to everyone about how amazing he was, he was an okay guy.

But there was a reason that he had been introduced to them, and then at other times, it was Nat who pushed him out of his comfort.

And yet here he was, walking up to some kid who had clear anger management problems, and probably making an ass of himself.

"Hi," Pietro said shortly, looking at him over his shoulder before looking looking back down at the floor. Clint pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He had no idea what else he was meant to say, so he considered turning around and walking back over the punching bags, and not looking like a bumbling idiot when his best friend walked back into the room.

She would never let him live this one down.

"What were you just saying?" Clint asked, obviously his better instincts not winning out. Pietro looked back at him, this expression of disbelief in his eyes and Clint waited for the kid to snap at him and tell him to 'piss off'.

"Why do you want to know this?" Pietro asked.

Clint liked that.

The way he talked.

"Uh, Nat always tells me when she's having a shit time," Clint attempted a shrug and a half smile. "She says it's better to bitch with someone than by yourself." Pietro was still giving an incredulous look at Clint made up his mind then, he was going to back off. "Right, well, she always said that I was a really shitty bitch buddy..." he muttered, taking a few steps back. He was about to turn around but then Pietro spoke up.

"He said he wanted to...He wanted to screw it with my sister," he spat out. Clint frowned slightly as but then his eyebrows widened as he realized what Pietro meant in his not quite so perfect English. "No one talks about my Wanda like that." Cint nodded understandably. He didn't have any siblings, and he definitely didn't get the bond that the twins had, but if someone talked about Natasha like that, he would shoot an arrow right through their cock.

"She's training here as well, right?" Clint asked and Pietro gave a short nod. Clint gave him another crooked smile, hoping that the blonde was loosening up a little. "The freaky one? With all the red swirly stuff?" Pietro frowned and looked like he might be offended, so Clint quickly jumped. "Hey, freaky's fine. Freaky's good, even. Hell, I go into battle with a bow and exploding arrows," he shrugged, hoping that it might loosen the kid up a little bit.

It worked.

The corner of his gorgeous lips turned upward.

"Yo, Barton!" Came a shout from beside the punching bags. Pietro's gaze lifted and Clint turned around, to where Nat was standing on the mats, stripped out of her shirt now and just in her training bra. Clint didn't miss the admiring looks that came from the other men in the gym, but when he looked back to Pietro, the kid had disappeared.

* * *

"Who are you looking at?" Wanda Maximoff asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked over at her brother. They had finished their mandatory three weeks of boot camp, and given they had already been trained rigourously by HYRDA, they were pretty much as up to speed as everyone else. They had been given the weekend off, and then on Monday, Wanda was going to start training with Black Widow and Pietro was going to start with Captain America.

It was all pretty surreal when they took a moment to think about it.

"You already know what it is I'm thinking," Pietro sent a lazy smile over at his sister, who just shrugged.

"You prefer it when you're the one to tell me," she reasoned.

"But you would still know if I was lying," he shot back and she grinned.

"You're thinking about the archer man," she said knowingly, looking across the stretch of grass to where a couple of the official Avengers were standing.

"Clint," Pietro corrected.

"Ooh," Wanda wiggled her eyebrows. "Clint."

"That's his name," Pietro tried to brush it off, looking down at the ground. They were sitting at a picnic table a few feet away from the entranceway to the bunker. Most of the time they were inside, and during the rehab they had only been allowed out in a corderned off section of the track to run. That was good, especially for Pietro. Running was his outlet; and he always had energy to burn. And now that Fury and Phil Coulsen had given them free run of the place, they didn't want to go further than a couple of feet away.

It felt safe.

And that was more than they had felt in a long time.

"I think that he is with Natasha," Pietro said, his leg bouncing up and down. Wanda looked over at where Clint, Natasha and James 'Bucky' Barnes were standing. She narrowed her eyes, her tongue edging out of her mouth before Pietro realized what she was doing. "No!" He said abruptly, reaching over and shaking her arm, distracting her from tapping inside anyones head. "We promised we wouldn't, remember?"

"I remember," Wanda shrugged. "No one has to know?" She offered, a cheeky smile on her face.

"No," Pietro repeated, even though it would make things so much easier.

It was a stupid school boy crush.

Literally.

He was a kid compared to the seasoned warrior, and the other afternoon he was probably just trying to make him feel better.

"Well, I'm not tapped into his head," Wanda murmured, leaning over so that her voice didn't carry across the open field. "But I can tell you that he's looking over here every couple of minutes. And he's definitely not looking at me."

"I think you need to stop imagining things, little sister," Pietro told her as he reached over to tweak her hair. He was trying to play it off, but Wanda knew Pietro better than the back of her own hand, and she could see the slight shadow in his usually bright eyes. "I need to run. I see you inside." Wanda nodded as her brother jumped up, bouncing on the balls of his feet a couple of times before taking off in a blur. Wanda watched him go, chewing on her lower lip.

She didn't like it when her brother worried about things.

That shouldn't be a problem anymore; they were on the right side of things. Working for the right people—the _good_ people in this world, the ones that protected others.

Just like Pietro had always tried to protect her.

He ran until his legs felt like jelly, and the sun was starting to set in the distance. Wanda had disappeared inside, along with the three Avengers. It must have been a few hours since he had started, and he headed inside, his pride keeping him in an upright position even though his legs were aching. It wouldn't take him long, give him a couple hours of sleep and his body would be just as tense and vibrating with energy as it had been earlier.

* * *

Pietro liked Captain America.

Steve.

The man had said to call him Steve.

He didn't make Pietro feel like any less of a human for the things that he had done when he had been entrapped by HYRDA. He had killed people, he had been experimented on and let his powers be used in a way to hurt and torture innocent lives—SHIELD lives. He thought that he had been in the right when he had been doing it, but even then, the screams and shouts of the people he had killed had haunted him at night.

And now, that he knew they were innocents, he could barely close his eyes without seeing them.

"You need to make sure you're getting enough sleep, Pietro," Steve told him on Friday, after a long day of training. "You need to make sure you're looking after yourself." The Maximoff boy nodded and Steve gave him a gentle smile. "We're a family, and we need to look after ourselves so that we can look out for each other when we're on a mission or in a fight."

"I'll be better on Monday," Pietro promised, a slight desperate edge to his voice, and Steve tilted his head to the side.

"It's not about being _better,_ Pietro," he said. "You're doing great. But you're tired, and that affects your senses." Pietro nodded furiously and Steve came him a smile. "Come on, let's go to dinner." They walked over to their bottles of water and their hoodies, and then toward the door. They were about to part ways but Steve caught the younger boys arm and nodded down the direction of the hall that he was going. "Eat with us. It's Friday. That means that Stark has flown off to some amazing place and brought back dinner."

"He does this?" Pietro asked with a slight smile.

"He does," Steve grinned. "He shows off like that. Besides," the Captain shrugged. "You're going to be an Avenger, remember?" The boys smile widened a little at that, the idea of being part of the team warming him up inside. "Come on," Steve repeated, and Pietro followed after him.

Wanda was already in the private kitchen, where Natasha was sitting on the bench while Bucky was pouring drinks into a long line of tumblers that were lined up. Tony was out of his Iron man garb, but there was a big pile of of fancy take out containers on the table with Italian scrawl. Pepper Potts and Jane Foster were laughing over by the long windows, and his sister was standing next to them, looking a little uncomfortable but smiling as Jane nudged her in the side and said something to her.

"That looks like a lot to fly back with," Steve noted as he took in the spread on the table.

"What can I say?" Tony shrugged. "I have incredible juggling skills."

"And he made me carry most of it," James 'Rhodey' Rhodes added as he came into the room. Steve grinned and started talking to the dark skinned man, walking away from the doorway and where Pietro was standing.

But that was okay with Pietro. He liked being able to take everything in without the disturbance of talking. Everyone looked so comfortable with each other, and when Maria Hill came in—the training leader—even she had her hair out and was smiling and looking amost approachable. Steve ended up at the head of the table, Tony at the other end, and everyone was spread out. Sam had joined them, taking a seat next to Steve, and blending it just like everyone else. Pietro sat quietly, just watching everyone, his eyes drifting over to the window every couple of minutes in hope that someone specific would work through the door.

But Hawkeye never showed.

"You want a drink, Peitro?" Tony asked from where he had got up to refill his glass.

"I'm good," Pietro replied.

"I'll have one!" Wanda piped up and Pepper let out a cheer. Pietro looked over at his sister, who gave him a grin in response. Pietro smiled, although to be honest, he was just really disappointed that Clint wasn't there. His sister was still looking at him, and her face shifted from a smile so a slight frown as she sensed her brothers upset. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but he just shook his head discreetly.

As it turned out, he didn't end up needing to be the one to ask.

"So where's your boyfriend, Nat?" Tony asked over the table with a grin, as he threw a chip into his mouth. Natasha rolled her eyes across the table to Iron Man, not looking particularly happy with her conversation being interupted. Tony, of course, didn't look at all apologetic and she just shook her head.

"He had a shit day," she said.

"So he's shooting the shit out of simulations?" Tony summed up.

"You know it," Natasha nodded before turning back to Steve and Sam.

Clint had a bad day.

Clint was somewhere alone.

Clint was _definitely_ Natasha's boyfriend.

Pietro wasn't sure which thought processed first. He should really have a couple of drinks, and try to get to know everyone in the Avengers team. First of all, he was going to be a team soon. Second of all, they were the _Avengers_. They were awesome. This was every little kids wet dream. Plus, if Clint was with Nat, like he was, Pietro really had no reason to go find the archer.

"I'll see you later," Wanda was already saying to him as he stood up to excuse himself. He was across the bunker within a couple of seconds, slowing down as he approached the simulation room and peeked around the corner.

And there was Hawkeye.

Wearing a pair of tight pants that clung to his thighs and that curved ass that made Pietro's stomach flip over in knots. And not wearing any shirt, only his quiver, the leather strap slung over his well made chest. Pietro knew his heart rate was increasing as he stared at the archer. There were simulated compatetants running from all sides, and Clint was spinning around, shooting off the arrows in all directions as though he wasn't even thinking. His aim was incredible, he was getting every shot dead on, but when the simulation was complete and he was left standing in the middle of the empty room, it wasn't satisfaction on his face.

It was an expression that Pietro knew well.

It was bitterness.

And disappointment in himself.

Pietro ran his hand through his silvery hair and spun around, running off in the opposite direction down the hall.

* * *

A kid had died last week, and Clint could have stopped it. Natasha had been trying to get his spirits back up, but Clint didn't want to listen to her. She then sent Steve in, who looked really nervous and not too keen on the whole conversation, but brave ol' Captain America would do anything Natasha asked, so he was trying. Clint had sent him packing within a couple of minutes, an expression of resting bitch fixed on his face. Phil was trying to get him to go to the shrink, which was honestly just ridiculous.

He never had before, what made the guy think he was going to do that now?

But despite his prostestations that he was fine, they benched him, asking him to help out with the training around the base and work out a couple of strategies.

And nothing made Clint feel worse that being kept on ground. So he did what he did best; which was taking to the roofs, and hiding somewhere high where he had a vantage point. Sometimes he was in the abandoned watch tower on top of the base, other times he just liked finding a corner inside the ceiling where he could be alone and away from the watchful eyes of his friends.

It was almost two weeks after the incident, when he was treading lightly across the ceiling, and he found the vent above Pietro's room. He must have passed over this room a hundred times, but it was probably through the day, because he had never noticed the speedster, but it was almost ten o'clock at night now, and the kid was in his room. Against his better judgement, Clint stopped and crouched, staring through the vents.

Pietro was doing push ups—and proper push ups, not at his lightening speed pace. He was also doing them naked, which was...Incredibly impressive to watch.

Clint took his time, starting from the way the kids blonde hair flew upwards on every rise. Apparently he was originally dark haired, like his sister, hence the dark roots and eyebrows, and then as the experiments went by, his hair had lightened to the almost silvery blonde colour now. Clint's eyes slowly sloped downwards, taking in the impressive cut shoulders and back muscles, which were glinting with sweat. Then the archers eyes reached his ass.

The older man pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting down hard to stop the moan from escaping from deep in his throat as he looked down at Pietro's ass. It was tight and flexing as he forced himself harder, and the sinful thoughts that were running through his mind were endless. He was biting so hard on his lips that there was a bitter taste in his mouth of blood.

The kid got up suddenly, and was then moving out of sight and into the bathroom and Clint let out a sigh that he didn't know he was holding.

That had definitely made him feel better.

* * *

Almost two months went by, and Clint and Pietro's interactions became more and more frequent. Clint couldn't stop noticing the way that the kid kept brushing up against him, even if it was when he was going super spread and the touch was so brief that Clint wondered if he was imagining it. They had even gone out on a couple of missions together, and they worked well, they seemed to pick up on each others style and movements. There was the occasional banter, the kid had a bit of a cheeky side, but it didn't very often come up. Clint wondered why, but they weren't really close enough to talk about that just yet.

Pietro was noticing the way they were getting closer. He also noticed the way that Natasha really didn't seem to care. He was guessing that the assasian had noticed the fact her sparring partner was now sparring more with him than her. She seemed to spending more time with Steve, and Wanda had said that she was actually pretty certain they were seeing each other. Pietro had come _this_ close to asking her to tap into Nat's head, but he held his tongue.

They had made a promise to change.

And so he had to figure the archer out the old fashioned way.

Clint watched as Pietro walked into the gym, wearing his ridiculously tight shirt and a pair of sweatpants that looked insanely good on the younger man. He was talking with Steve, the two of them seemed to be getting on well. If it was another guy, Clint might be jealous, but Steve was smitten by his partner, so he let it go. Pietro looked up and saw him across the room, and he felt his stomach pull at the way the kids eyes raised. Steve looked over at Clint and gave him a quick smile before saying something to Pietro and then striding out of the room. Pietro came over to him, running his hands through his already tousled hair and giving him a half smile.

"Barton," he greeted him.

"Maximoff," Clint nodded. "I need to talk to you." The hesitance was instantly clear on Pietro's face and he stood up a little straighter, pushing his shoulders back. "No, no, why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Pietro asked, jerking his chin forward.

"Go straight on the offensive," Clint noted.

"You do this also," Pietro noted, his eyebrows knitting together. Clint stared at him for a long moment before shrugging and then nodding.

"Yeah, okay, agreed," Clint said. Pietro seemed to relax slightly at that, and the older man seemed to realize that maybe honesty was the best thing here. "I want to know why you don't trust me— _us_." Pietro opened his mouth to disagree but Clint continued, taking a step closer to Pietro across the puffy, blue mats. "And don't say you do—because every time you say or do something that could be mildly wrong, you look as though you're waiting for us to kick you in the stomach." Pietro swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, pulling his lower lip into his mouth. "Kid..." Clint sighed.

"Don't call me this!" Pietro interupted, jerking back from him and Clint frowned. "I'm not some child!"

"Pietro..."

"The things that I've gone through have made sure that I was never a child!" Pietro spat out. "The only person who was ever there for me was Wanda, and we never had other people we could trust! I just keep—" he broke off with a hiss and Clint frowned.

"You just keep what?" He asked, stepping closer.

"I just keep waiting for you to say that we are not good enough—that _I_ am not good enough," Pietro muttered. Clint was staring at him, a look of disbelief on his face. Pietro swallowed again, his mouth and throat suddenly feeling incredibly dry. He wondered if maybe he should just turn around and speed out of there right then and there, but before he could make up his mind, Clint's hand snapped out and circled around his wrist.

"Don't you fucking dare run," he growled out. Then the man was pulling him after him as he stalked across the gym. Pietro wasn't sure he could run, even if he tried, because the grip around his wrist was like iron. The older man was stronger than him, viciously so, and even though he didn't have super speed, they seemed to be making tracks down the blinding white hallways pretty damn quickly. They stopped outside a room, and Pietro realized that this was his room. His whole body was tense as Clint swiped his key card and then the door was sliding open and Clint was pushing him in first, and following after him, letting the door slam shut and locking them both inside.

"What are you doing?" Pietro bit out, the fear he was feeling making his accent even stronger. Clint leaned against the door, closing his eyes for a moment. Pietro's whole body was vibrating with nervous energy as he stared at the older man, who seemed to be perfectly happy with staying completely still and just breathing in and out through his nose.

"Pietro," Clint finally said, letting his eyes open. "We're not just a team. We're a family." The blonde let out a bitter snort.

"Steve said something like this."

"And you don't believe Mr Honest and Truth?" Clint rolled his eyes. "Shit, kid...He wasn't lying. We're a family. We're kind of screwed up—I used to pick-pocket, that then I became a gun for hire. Then SHIELD found me, and I straightened out. Did you know I was actually sent out to kill Nat, because she was part of this big Russian mob thing?" Pietro felt his body automatically stiffen again at the name of Clint's friend. "Nat's had demons for years, and that's what we bonded over. She's my best friend. Steve lost everyone he ever knew—the woman he was in love with is dying of old age and here he is, looking like some kid who goes to gym way too much! And Bucky—Bucky was brain washed and forced to—"

"Okay, I get it, I get it!" Pietro interupted him. "But you are all friends! _You_ are family! Me and Wanda are not!"

"You and Wanda are," Clint insisted, stepping forward and putting his hands down firmly on Pietro's shoulders. "Wanda already feels like a little sister to me, and you—" this time it was Clint's turn to break off, not too sure about what he was going to say next. Pietro's eyes were narrow as he stared at the handsome man, his eyes skimming over the lines of his face and resting momentarily on his gorgeous mouth that he had been dreaming about for the past few months.

"I what?" He asked.

"You're...You," Clint stammered out. "You are like..." Clint pulled his hands off Pietro's shoulders and flexed them at his sides, his muscular shoulders rolling. "Fucking hell," he muttered before he was reaching forward, his hands going on either side of the kids face and forcing him to come forward and meet his lips in a kiss. It was over far too soon, and Clint was looking at him nervously. Pietro was shocked, unable to respond before his face suddenly relaxed and a small smile curved on his red lips.

"You lock me in this room so I have no way out of this?" He joked lightly, but Clint's expression didn't change. Pietro dropped his smile and then reached out for Clint, grabbing the older man and bringing him back in to him. He didn't kiss him, just rested his forehead against his, their breath spreading across one anothers faces as they stared at each other. For a long moment, they just stared, until Clint's hand came up and rested on the man's hip, squeezing lightly.

"I'm not doing this because I'm trying to confuse you, or make you think that this is what you're expected to do to make yourself belong here," Clint said, his voice hushed. "I'm doing this because I like you, and I want you to know that."

"I like you too, Hawkeye," Pietro nodded. Clint stared at him for a second longer, as though needing to confirm that Pietro was confident in what he said. When he saw, he kissed him again. This time, Pietro kissed back harder, his arms going around Clint as the older man's fingers went to his hair, tangling into the shaggy strands. He tasted Pietro, groaning as the speedster bit down hard on his lower lip and backed him up so he was against the door again. Clint had expected it to be himself that took charge, but he was more than happy to let the kid take over. He dropped down to his knees, still staring up at Clint with a lustful glaze in his eyes. Clint licked his tongue over his lips, his breaths coming out in short pants and Pietro made quick work and undoing the archers belt and then jerking down his pants and dark coloured jockeys.

"You don't have to—" Clint broke off as Pietro raked his fingers up and down his thighs roughly. "You don't have to do this..." he sighed as Petro leaned in and blew hot breath over Clint's aching cock.

"And if I want to?" Pietro breathed. "Would you want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," Clint muttered, his hand going down to the younger mans head. He tugged at his hair tightly, tracing a finger down the side of his hair, through the scruff of his short beard and then down to his lip, tugging at the lower one. Pietro's tongue flicked out, tracing over the tip of Clint's finger before swallowing it lewdly into his mouth and pulling a whine from deep in the archers throat. Pietro swirled his tongue around Clint's finger before pulling his head back and leaning in toward Clint's cock. A second later, his mouth was closing around Clint and taking him all the way in, until the head was hitting the back of his throat.

Clint let out a guttural groan that Pietro felt right down to his toes, his cock straining against his sweatpants. They were meant to be loose and roomy, but they just felt like a prison right now. He swallowed around his lovers cock, flattening his tongue against the underside before pushing his head all the way forward so that his nose was buried in the dark coloured curls and taking in a deep breath. His throat contracted around Clint, and when he pulled back, Clint's hand was even tighter in his hair.

"You taste so good," Pietro murmured out, and Clint mumbled something unintelligable. Pietro's hand came up from where it was resting and rubbed a finger lightly over Clint's sac, relishing the long, jilted sigh that fell from Clint's lips. From the way he was tensing and pulling at Pietro's hair, he could guess that he wasn't far away from cumming, and Pietro was wondering if maybe he would also from without even being touched. He began to move faster, his fingers tightening around around Clint's sac, and the broken words falling from the standing man made him more enthusiastic. His teeth lightly scraped at Clint, which drew a grunt and then he was emptying himself into the hot cavern that was Pietro's mouth. Pietro swallowed every last drop of his seed, before slowly pulling away with a sloppy pop and then a dirty smile.

"Come here," Clint ordered, jerking the kid to his feet and bringing their lips together with a smack. There was a mush of teeth and tongue, Pietro moaning against the older man as his hand dipped into his pants and roughly grabbed the Maximoff mans cock. Pietro knew that it wouldn't take him long, and it didn't. Clint's hand jerked at him, his thumb swiping across the leaking head and digging his fingers into the boys ass to pull him against him, rewarding him with as much friction as he could create.

And then Pietro was spilling over Clint's fingers and dripping down his fist. Pietro's body shuddered as he dropped his head into the curve of Clint's neck and breathing against him harshly. They stayed like that for a long few minutes, before Clint gently pushed Pietro away so that he could see his face.

"Two things," he said softly. "One, I don't want to her anymore of that stupid shit about thinking you're not one of us." Pietro couldn't stop the small smile and gave a nod. "And two, what I do want, is for this to happen again and again." Pietro's smile widened and he jerked his head into another nod.

"This, I can agree with."

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